Blood Sleeping Within
by NickeltheRed
Summary: Sansa was born a Stark. Not even time could change that fact. One day Joffrey, Cersei, Sandor, and the fellow knights shall quake in her presence. They will hear her howl ring out over these hills. Winter was approaching, and she'd be ready to embrace it... A slightly darker outlook on Sansa as her inner Wolf comes out.


**I own nothing. **

**Sadly I only follow the show, but I have Wikipedia-ed all the book summaries, so I still get the gist of the either plot all the same. **

**Overall idea inspired by the **_**Balto **_**animated film; also somewhat based on the "intense bridge scene" during the end of season 1.**

* * *

_Eddard Stark, several years ago, with features less affected by age knelt before his small, trembling daughter of eight, cupping his strong hands under her elbows. "Siblings tend to mock each other from time to time, Sansa, so do not worry yourself sick over this."_

_"But, Robb and Jon won't let me in the room to play. Rob said I'm not like other Starks, and locked me out." The young girl sniffed and hiccupped lightly. "I'm not worth enough to do anyhthing!"_

_"Oh no, I say otherwise. You possess the blood of the Wolf just as much as the rest of us," the snow lord reassured her, his voice ever so deep and mild. He brushed a few blazing red curls back from her watery gaze then. "I can see it waiting to bloom behind those bright eyes of yours...even if it sleeps within you for now, Sansa, it will awake when you need it most. Besides, we all know your brother loves you in spite of his words. We are a pack, forever bonded by the Call of the North. And whenever we feel distant from one another, the Wolves will still always return as one."_

* * *

However, presently, her intended husband pointed a forceful and accusing finger in her direction for emphasis. "...After I raise my armies, and _kill_ your traitor-brother, I'm going to give you _his_ head as well!"

While her father's detatched head rested on the pointed steak above, his personal advice from her earlier childhood, echoed throughout her core._ "Remember, Sansa, a mere girl may not be able to survive this life's journey alone—though perhaps a Wolf can." _

She therefore instinctively responded with, "Or maybe, he'll bring me yours."

And in awe, the young King hesitated for a clear moment, looking straight into her cold blue stare, which Joffrey had privately noted—wasn't forgiving and childish anymore. Her jaw had grown surprisingly taught, and her lips pursed, as if to conceal a hidden set of gnashing teeth. Her eyes also were practically _gleaming_ under the afternoon sunlight.

He'd seen eyes like _that_ a little while back, too...but they hadn't belonged to a mortal _girl._

"My mother tells me a King should never strike his Lady," he continued, eagerly handing the task over to his leading knight instead, "Ser Meryn?"

Ser Meryn, who already had a cruel hold upon her shoulders, rotated Sansa right round on his cue, whacking her across the cheek twice over. His amour clanked loudly as he did so.

The deed was finished, and both Joffery and his knight seemed satisfied. Sansa tasted blood soon afterwards.

She wanted to scream her heart out and flee from King's Landing altogether. She'd give anything to collaspe in mother's caring arms, to have her father still alive, or even to feel Rob's protective hand reach out and pat her head. To hear her sister's mischievous laughter, to see her youngest brothers chasing each other, or to lay in bed beneath the full moon, listening to Lady howl in harmony beside her fellow Dires.

Nonetheless, her feet wouldn't allowed it. She faced the wall of steaks once more, where Joffrey remained, smugly admiring his revolting work yet.

Meanwhile, Sansa suddenly took interest in how high they really were.

If he should have slipped, it would certainly be a shamefully long fall down.

_Move. Find the will to move. _

And then Joffrey turned and was prepared to make his way back to Court, but only to notice that Sansa had been leisurely walking...no, more like _stalking_ towards him.

He refocused on her eyes.

Yes, strangly enough, they resembled those steely eyes of that bloody beast that ripped his arm apart. Indeed her eyes now appeared far too—_wolfish_.

Joffrey was amazed at how fast his heart began to beat beyond his consent. Though he attempted to stand his ground, knowing he shouldn't reflect such honest panic and confusion in pulic.

He actually felt a wave of relief hit him when the Hound intruded shortly, grabbing Sansa from behind, quickly shattering whatever was truly happening at that instant.

And Sansa's eyes immediately dulled in color and fell to the flooring, her girlish pout returning to their sights...

* * *

Although with each passing night—when the corridor torches were put out and Sansa would rest against her palace fur quilt, completely encased by the darkness—peculiar thoughts in which no one would ever expect her to have, visited her curious mind.

_"Remember, Sansa, a mere girl may not be able to survive this life's journey alone—though perhaps a Wolf can."_

_Father...is this what you meant?_

Wolves did not succumb to fear easily. They did not dread the frosty arrival of Winter. In reality, they welcomed it. They had their own power, their rare union with the Northern realm. They were born wild predators, and bounded through snow mounds like ice droplet-covered gods.

Sansa vowed she would her hold her tongue day upon day, trapped inside the Lannisters' lair. She wouldn't make a large fuss if she could help it. She'd even allow both the Lion Queen and the Hound call her their so-called _Little_ Bird...since she could sense, it wouldn't last forever.

For she knew someday, she may _want_ to feel that certain rush she had while standing on the castle overpass with Joffrey. Making her feel she was very capable of defending herself, like she was capable of spilling blood willingly.

And her repressed anger...her silent vengeful streak would aid her in plaguing _them all_ with burning regret in the near future. She'd prove them wrong. One day, she'd pounce on them like an unseen prowler out on the hunt, before they'll even process the attack.

If her own inner Wolf had been awaken once, then surely it could be awoken a second time, and a third, during any time. How else could it have been explained? The Stark line has endured for so long. This had to the reason as to why.

She would survive this. She'd keep her willpower aflame. She'd live to meet the day when she would be reunited with her brothers and sister, her beloved pack.

The Wolves would come together again as one, and claim the soon-to-be icy, chilled horizen as their domain. Wolves were made for Winter, and Winter was made for the Wolves.

Her father would be avenged. Lady's name would be honored.

All Lions, Hounds, and Landing Knights in existence would be bent at their feet for a change. At the mercy of _her_ fangs and claws.

After all, Wolves could devour felines, stag, trained house dogs, and even birds alike.

She'd treasure the morning when they will hear her fierce howl ring out over these hills.

* * *

**In my opinion, Sansa needs a little more credit. ****We all make mistakes that land us in tragic situations. But seriously, a girl her age during that kind of era, dealing with vast amounts of loss and abuse, and never giving in to the chaos like those around her is remarkable. Just because she's naturally good-natured does not necessarily make her an insignificant character. I feel like she's going to end up on top somehow since everyone underestimated her willpower to begin with. ****In fact, it's people like her that make us remember there's still light in our darkest hours of the world.**

**Aslo I don't know why exactly, but I think it'd be cool if the Starks to learn they're actually born werewolf-type people; so that's why their connection with the wolves seems to run deeper than it just being their family crest. It appears as if Bran's dreams in the show are hinting towards that, maybe?**


End file.
